


Vanguard Poker Night

by DistantStorm



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Crack-ish, Drinking, F/M, Mildly Romantic, Poker, Strip Poker, definitely lighthearted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 13:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16833427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: Every third Friday - when the war was relatively maintained and no major threats beside the usual were threatening the solar system - was Vanguard Poker Night. This is Hawthorne's first.





	Vanguard Poker Night

Suraya Hawthorne never realized there would be so many intricacies of her position as Clan Stewardess in the City. She had a seat on the Consensus, representing the interests of humanity (yes, _her_ , she can’t believe it either). There was also the full gamut of civil events she was required to attend - galas, festivals, groundbreakings, surveys, the list carries on and on and on, the faction events she was required to attend (ugh, honestly could one of them be slightly not-creepy for one), and of course, the Vanguard sanctioned events she was required to attend. Bit weird being the only human - Amanda didn’t count since she’d essentially grown up with Guardians and didn’t notice the difference - but she made due.

And they did do some normal activities.

Like, every third Friday - when the war was relatively maintained and no major threats beside the usual were threatening the solar system - was Vanguard Poker Night. Of course, she was okay not being invited, especially since she really didn’t want to lose all her glimmer to Amanda or Cayde, but both insisted she had to join, and both insisted she would not lose any glimmer. It seemed like a lie to her, but then again…

They also told her to meet them in the hall at 22:00 in her normal gear. Plus weapons.

Okay, so maybe in hindsight the Vanguard didn’t do normal activities. Maybe they just called them that and hoped nobody would notice? Or, maybe she was just overreacting. Social situations - even with people she worked with on the regular (now, at least) - weren’t exactly her strong suit.

In any case, Suraya pulled her poncho over her head, clipped her sidearm to her belt at the small of her back(never can be too prepared), tucked in her knife to her boot, and strapped her rifle to her back before grabbing the best darn moonshine the Farm made - apple pie - and throwing it in her pack. Seeing as they took the time to invite her, she figured she’d share.

Also, they promised to bring her more on the next supply run, and moonshine was great for making friends and learning dirty secrets. And since Cayde and Amanda are absolutely going to annihilate her in poker - she can’t bluff to save her life and she knows it - it makes sense to get them ridiculously drunk.

A girl’s gotta even the playing field somehow.

-/

There’s nothing surprising to her about the scene she walks into. Zavala and Ikora - because they have class, unlike the rest of them - are sharing a bottle of wine, it placed between them with two glasses filled about a third of the way. Polite, the both of them. Ikora nods to Suraya when she enters, and Suraya waves, other arm holding the jug of amber liquid.

Amanda pops up like a daisy to greet the newcomer, bottle of beer in one hand and a case of it on the ground beside what is presumably her chair. “Hey girl, whatcha got there?”

Suraya extends the jug, shaking it a little for show. Cinnamon sticks float happily around in the jug. “Just the finest moonshine in the solar system.”

Ikora’s brows furrow. “That does not look like moonshine, Hawthorne.” A hum to the Warlock’s right signifies that Zavala agrees.

“And besides,” Cayde quips, appearing from out of nowhere and slinging an arm around her shoulders, “There is no way this is the best moonshine in the system. You’ve never even been off planet. You have no idea what the galaxy has to offer.”

The slightest pull of her lips has Hawthorne smirking as she shrugs out of his hold. “Well, none of you have had this before, I guarantee it. It’s the first batch of the Farm’s Apple Pie Moonshine, straight from the cellar. Hasn’t been any ready since before the war.” She sets the jug down to Zavala’s right, between him and Cayde, where she’ll be sitting for the night. Amanda’s already situated herself across from Zavala at the round table. “And besides,” She levels Cayde with a grin, “I know you were trying to convince Devrim to smuggle you some through his scouts. Still the leader of the Farm, bud.” She jerks a thumb to her chest. “Any requests for the good stuff still go through me.”

Amanda chuckles. “She’s got you there, pal. May as well surrender.”

By the time Suraya grabs a rocks glass from a separate table against the wall and returns, Amanda is shuffling the deck like she works at a casino for a living. Suraya sighs, drawing Zavala’s attention away from the fluttering sound of cards zipping through the blonde’s hands, and pops the cork on the moonshine.

The smell permeates the air almost immediately, and Suraya relaxes, pouring her glass almost up to the rim. She looks at the two Vanguards’ wine glasses all respectable-like and shakes her head.

“What?” The Commander asks, turning toward her.

Suraya takes a sip of the moonshine, licking her lips as she sets the glass back down. “Damn is that good.” She glances at Zavala. “Nothing. Just can’t understand what the point of not filling your glass up all the way.”

“It’s to preserve the essence of the wine, Hawthorne.” Ikora interrupts. “It is part of the experience. You get a full sense of the color and can open up the bouquet to enjoy the subtle aromas by doing so.”

Suraya shrugs, not buying it. “If you say so. If you want to try some moonshine, just say the word.” She flicks her gaze back to the Titan, still leaned toward her. “You too, Commander.”

Zavala hums, and when Ikora is distracted by Cayde saying something stupidly funny, he whispers close to her ear. “Wait until she loses a few hands. That wine glass will be full in no time.”

Suraya turns her head; Their noses nearly touch. She smirks, and the lines around his eyes resemble a secret smile. They don’t notice Amanda or Cayde grinning at each other at the other side of the table when Ikora’s chuckle stops. For her part, Ikora leans back, eager to watch the trainwreck that is this game night commence.

Hand one is just to make sure that Suraya knows how to play. She does. She is not very good at it, but she can play. Cayde and Amanda look thrilled. Zavala hands out coin purses.

“Dad won’t let us play with real money,” Cayde says, chugging a glass of something that looks and smells like jet fuel for his refined Exo palette. “So, here’s the tokens we use. Whomever ends up with the most loot at the end of the night gets one favor of their choice, and the losers have to acquiesce. No exceptions.”

Zavala, still grumbling over being called ‘dad,’ pipes up, “Within reason, Cayde. You always seem to forget that nothing publicly humiliating is considered a favor.”

Cayde grouses and mimes as Zavala speaks. “Yeah, yeah, says the guy who hasn’t won one of these in at least a decade.”

“I absolutely have.”

Ikora gives him some incredible side-eye before regarding Hawthorne. “Yes, because he paid me to give him the victory so he could convince Cayde to actually fulfill the tasks of his job.”

“AHA!” Cayde springs to his feet as Zavala glares daggers at the Warlock. “The truth comes out.”

Suraya smiles, tilts her glass towards Zavala, looking for him to clink his glass against her own. “Drink up. I’m sure I’m worse than you. I haven’t really played poker in a while.”

He does, and surprises her by finishing his glass after they clink theirs together. When he reaches for the wine bottle, she tips more moonshine into her own glass and slides it to him. He looks at her. She shrugs, retreating to get another glass.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll take my glass back and share with Amanda.”

He takes the barest sip, truly giving himself a moment to experience the flavor. Apple, cinnamon, no burn. It doesn’t taste like alcohol. Suraya’s eyebrow is raised in a question. He raises the glass to his lips once more, maintaining eye contact. Sets the glass down, closer to him than to her. The smile she gives him is mostly teeth and a peek of tongue. She pours her own glass and sets it beside her.

“Well I’ll be,” Amanda says, shaking her head and gesturing toward the Commander. “You could still share this-a-way, y’know.”

“Finish your beer, Amanda. Then we’ll talk.”

-/

Hand Two:

Suraya lays her cards on the table. “Read ‘em and weep.” She reaches out, grabs the decent pot sized, and pulls it toward her.

Amanda and Cayde roll their eyes as she and the Commander clink glasses.

Ikora smiles and almost imperceptibly shakes her head.

-/

Hand Seven:

“That’s not a good idea, Hawthorne,” Zavala is telling her. “He’s going to-”

She pushes her winnings in with some of her reserves.

Cayde doesn’t clean her out like he’s predicted, but Amanda does.

The Shipwright flips a piece of hair out of her eyes. “I’ll give you some of this back if you share the moonshine.”

Suraya sighs and lifts the jug in defeat. Zavala intercepts her, refilling his glass with a hand over hers guiding the pour, the other hand popping the cork with deft fingers. “Wait until you’re desperate,” He advises seriously.

“Zavala!” Ikora chastises. Not that she has any room to say anything, her glass is creeping above the socially acceptable level of full, and she’s halfway through the second bottle of wine with minimal help from the Titan next to her.

He looks at Ikora with a wide-eyed look that makes him seem far younger than his years. “What? It’s good!”

Amanda guffaws. “You will share some of that, both of you.”

Suraya shrugs, and Zavala opens his coin pouch, pouring several tokens into his hand and handing them over to her. “Not this time, Holliday,” He says.

“Uh, Suraya?” The Shipwright ventures, “How potent is that?”

“Can’t be more than hundred, maybe ninety-proof. I like it pretty sweet. Why?”

Amanda nods. She looks at the Commander. Smiles at him. “No reason.”

-/

Hand Eleven:

“Alright, ten tokens will buy you in.”

Zavala looks up at the rest of them. “I’m out.”

“How many do you need?” Suraya leans over, looking between the walls that are his arms. He has six tokens left. She looks over at her own meager collection. She really overdid it. “Well, I don’t have enough either.” She looks over at Cayde, this round’s dealer. “Can I propose something different?”

Cayde and Amanda look at each other. Amanda chirps, “Your partner in crime gonna stop hoggin’ all the moonshine?”

The Exo puts a hand out in front of Amanda. “Now, now. When you deal, you can demand moonshine as payment.” He strokes his chin with a metal and silicone hand. “I’ll let you and Big Blue in this round for the poncho.”

“That’s a horrible idea,” Ikora says. “We never play for-”

Suraya stands, criss crosses her arms, and tugs the bottom of her garment upward. It lands in front Cayde in a heap. “Not for keeps.”

“No, but I will borrow it for a week if I win this thing.”

“Fine. Don’t defile it.”

“Deal.”

“Suraya, this is a terrible idea.”

“This is a risk.” She takes a drink and licks her lips to get the last of the flavor. Ikora has been shaking her head at their antics for the last three hands. “So you better win this round for me, Commander.”

“Win on your own. This isn’t a team activity.” He has the audacity to smirk at her.

The three people on the other side of the table regard the Commander with surprise. Suraya ignores it. “You’re a bastard, you know that?” She shoves him, hard.

He doesn’t move, and raises an eyebrow when he realizes the rest are watching him intently. “Why are you looking at me?”

“Suraya?” Ikora’s cheshire grin is something to behold. Cayde and Amanda follow suit, and the table is suddenly very much divided.

Before the Commander can realize what’s happened, she tops off his glass. “You, drink. The rest of you: That’s my name. Feel free to use it.”

“Since when does he use it?” Cayde asks slyly. “Why does he use it? How does he say it? I need specific examples here.”

She scoffs, shoving him now, instead. Cayde’s metal body has far more give and that’s saying something. Suraya growls. “He uses it because we work together more than you do.”

Ikora takes an elegant pull from her glass, punctuated by a less elegant snort. “Clearly.”

-/

Hand Fourteen:

“It’s either the booze or my shirt.”

Zavala unstraps the larger of his two pauldrons and slams it on the table, buckles clattering.

“Keep your shirt on, this isn’t strip poker.”

-/

Hand Fifteen:

“I won!” Hawthorne swings her arms out and nearly takes out the open bottle of moonshine. Zavala grabs it with steady hands. “Cough it up,” She says, turning to him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You bet me three hands ago that if I won another hand tonight you’d give me that grubby tea towel of yours.”

“I did not-”

“You did.” Cayde points up, and Sundance, his ghost pops into existence with a chirp and an audio replay that confirms he did, in fact, agree to it, but it was two hands ago.”

He grumbles. “What do you even want it for, anyway? Certainly you are going to lose it like you’ve lost the rest of your winnings.”

She looks at him with something that’s simultaneously lava hot and ice cold. Her lips purse. “I’m going to take it and wear it around the Tower and let them all wonder about what I’m really doing with you.”

“Ooooh yeah.” Cayde whoops, catching both of their attention. His optics blink. “I mean, you guys have something going on, right? This tension is just,” The Hunter gestures vaguely.

Suraya looks at him with a gaze that could kill, he’s sure of it. Zavala can’t untie his mark fast enough. “No,” She says with a foreboding smile that’s all teeth when he throws it at her in a hurry. “We don’t.”

-/

Hand Twenty-One

“You sure I can’t buy in for my shirt?”

The Titan glares at her.

“Fine.” She fishes his almost empty glass of moonshine out of his grasp and finishes it. “I fold.”

-/

Hand Twenty-Five

“Cayde,” Amanda murmurs, less slur and more focus as she nods in the direction of the man across from her. “Look.”

Ikora has an indulgent smile on her face as she sips more wine. She’s the only one who ever paces herself at these things. She starts hard, feels the buzz, and rides the line. It’s a skill.

Suraya is leaning into Zavala’s personal space, looking at his hand with intense focus. They’ve abandoned their glasses, instead taking turns drinking directly from the bottle that’s only a third full now. The Commander isn’t looking at his hand so much as he’s running a hand through her hair - she lost the tie that held it up in a low bun around hand twelve.

The Hunter Vanguard pats the top of Amanda’s head. He’s swapped his cloak for Hawthorne’s poncho. The group spent most of hands fifteen through twenty telling him how ridiculous he looks. “Oh, I see it, pal. The question is if they see it.”

-/

“Hah! I won!” Cayde hollers, jumping up. “Take that you four!”

Behind him is a stack of miscellaneous armor, Amanda’s leg that he’s totally about to give back because it’s easier than trying to carry her to her room, some knives, and a few miscellaneous weapons.

Amanda shoves him playfully. “Good fer you.”

Ikora smirks at him from over her wine glass. “Congratulations. You’ll have to let us know what your favor is.”

“Yeah, about that.” Cayde looks sly. “You two. Lovebirds.”

The two individuals in question were absolutely not paying attention to anything happening at the other table.

  
“They’re canoodling,” He proclaims. “Of all the people in the world. Poncho! Zavala! Get a freaking room already. You’ve been making bedroom eyes at each other since like hand two. If you think I’m buying that there’s ‘nothing going on between us,’” He air quotes heatedly, “That ship has sailed. I’m not buying.”

They look over, finally, a combination of flushed skin and sparkling dark eyes. Suraya rises without a word, extending a hand to the Commander. “You heard him. That’s the favor he wants. I’m voting your room, it’s closer.”

“That is not what I-”

“I think it was,” Ikora quips. “What a romantic.”

“Oh you guys suck!” Cayde whines.

Suraya saunters past the Exo, the Commander in tow. She looks at the few drops - maybe a shot - of moonshine left in the bottle in her spare hand, and drops it in front of Amanda. “Here ya go. You’re welcome.” She swings her gaze to Cayde, just over Zavala’s shoulder. “As for you, I expect the poncho to be washed before you give it back. If you stain or rip it, I’ll kill you.”

Amanda tips the remainder of the bottle into her mouth. “Damn. That is good moonshine.”


End file.
